


Promise

by mickeymouseno1



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: 5x12, Alternate S5 Ending, Day 3, Gallavich Week 2016, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-07-25 08:07:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7524910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mickeymouseno1/pseuds/mickeymouseno1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey uses words he never got the chance to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Promise

**Author's Note:**

> Day 3! This was completely last-minute because I hit a block trying to think of something to write for this (and who wants to re-watch 5x12).

“Hey.”

Ian’s voice is rich and melodious. His breath is even but his eyelids are so light and pale that Mickey can see hints of Ian’s lilac veins, like spider web cracks. Ian’s footsteps make a soft thud against the ground as he moves slowly towards Mickey, his dirty pants caught under his worn sneakers. Mickey shudders as Ian’s eyes disappear into a tight-lipped smile.

Mickey bites his lip and taps his feet anxiously. He doesn’t like it when he can’t see Ian’s eyes. To Mickey, the colour of Ian’s eyes is an anchor in this cold plain.

“How are you,” Mickey says, staring at the dust swirling at his feet as he shuffles around. He remembers the last time he’d been here. We’re going on a date, they had said.

Ian is thinner now.

“Where you been?” asks Mickey. He watches Ian’ eyes. Ian doesn’t look at him. Mickey does not rush him, gingerly placing his hands in his coat pocket.

“Around,” Ian mumbles.

“Am I broken?” Ian asks. His eyes flicker back and forth from the ground and up at Mickey as if he is scared to look at any one place for too long. His voice quivers slightly and transports Mickey to the past, back home, with Ian – “Get the fuck off him!” – with the same shy voice and slight smile. The same tilt of the head. Just a small space between the two of them on a chilly night before their lives thrown into disarray.

Mickey doesn’t know how to respond.

So they sit on the steps together and watch the soft, orange rays of sunlight peeking through the trees slowly fade away. Ian gives an abridged version of his adventures with Monica, simply insisting that he is fine, they are all fine, and everything is fine. Yes, every single morning that Mickey wakes up to an Ian-sized hole in the middle of the house is fine.

Mickey knows why Ian is here. The patient, they call him. But Mickey calls him Ian and blocks his ears when anyone calls him anything else. He’ll close his eyes when they explain that Ian is unstable, always at the brink of curling up into a corner of the room shrieking even when there’s nothing there.

They sit in silence, seeing the sun finally set below the horizon. Ian isn’t paying full attention. Instead, he’s meticulously inspecting Mickey’s nails with a feverish intensity, while Mickey is smoothing down Ian’s sweater to the defined lines of his hipbones. Mickey takes out pills the deep purple of bruises.

Ian takes a deep breath.

“You still gonna want me if I don’t take these?”

Mickey still doesn’t know what to say. He takes out his water bottle to get some water for Ian to drink them down. Just in case he needs it.

Just in case Ian needs him.

Ian scoffs. “You used to love me. Now you don’t even know who I am.” He scoffs again. “Shit, I don’t even know who I am.”

Ian stands up. He starts pacing.

“You don’t owe me anything.”

Mickey finally finds his voice again.

“I love you.”

Ian laughs in his face. Mickey feels himself crumbling inside.

“What does that even mean?”

Mickey examines Ian. He knows he could go on about how he loves Ian with all he’s got, how he wants to take care of him, how he wants Ian even if he’s broken. But he knows it would just make Ian close up even further.

So instead, he offers, “Let’s find that out together.”

Ian freezes.

“Even if I go batshit crazy on you?”

Mickey knows this is it. The moment that will make or break them. He knows how everyone else would respond. He’s seen how Ian rejects their pleas because he’s so used to being independent, that he doesn’t know how to accept that help isn’t a bad thing.

“You go batshit crazy on me, I’ll fucking kill you,” Mickey deadpans.

For a moment, he thinks Ian’s going to cry, or slap him. Then Ian starts shaking, as laughter erupts from his body. Mickey chuckles with him.

“C’mere.” He pulls Ian into his chest, feeling a weight lift as Ian doesn’t pull back. He waits until Ian’s breathing evens out.

He only begins to break down once Ian seems to be asleep. But he doesn’t want the tears to slide off his cheeks onto Ian’s nose and become all salty and sticky and wake him up, or to make Ian’s forehead all wet and make him all upset and confused. So Mickey takes a deep breath before counting himself back from panic. He has to do this. He has to take care of Ian.

Home is right here, Mickey thinks, with Ian. Home is watching Ian as he sleeps on. And it might not be perfect right now, but maybe they’ll get there, Mickey thinks.

First, they just need to try.


End file.
